


Koala.

by reymanova



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, but it's truly utter fluff, rated t for some topics mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reymanova/pseuds/reymanova
Summary: David Rose was not a cuddler. Or at least, after many years of shitty relationships and one-night stands, his natural cuddly tendencies had been trained out of him. So when he woke up in Patrick's bed for the first time and found himself being full-on koalaed by the man in question, it was moderately alarming.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 33
Kudos: 317





	Koala.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aromantic asexual, not a cuddler or hugger, and am usually a dialogue-ier writer rather than a prose-type fella, but somehow I wrote this anyway. Make of that what you will (but please, be gentle). 
> 
> Unbeta'ed because *Forky voice* I'm trash.

David Rose was not a cuddler. 

Years of having sex with people who just wanted him for his money or his influence or his dick or all of the above had trained whatever natural cuddly tendencies that might have lingered into adulthood right out of him. It was always sneaking out right after it was over, or worse, being kicked out. On the rare occasion that he would stay the whole night with someone, it was as if an invisible wall was put up between them as soon as the deed was done, and David knew better than to breach it. He was just waiting for the day that after considering themselves done, a sexual partner would just send him off into a twin bed across the room like a couple in a 1950s sitcom, or, better yet, into another wing of the house entirely, like some king’s least favorite concubine. 

As a kid, he was cuddly with Adelina, but no one else. As much of a Momma's boy as David was, from a very young age he knew not to get anywhere near Moira Rose's silk pajamas ("You might prematurely WRINKLE them") or her precious wigs ("Arabella has been HOPELESSLY mussed up, David, now what am I supposed to wear during the tedious 20 minute interval between leaving the house and sitting down upon Raúl's hair and makeup chair — nay, throne. Should I perhaps wear Darlene? Oh no, she clashes with my mood today, I'm simply in too much of a tizzy for Darlene's joyous spectacle. What a travesty this is David, a TRAVESTY.")

So Adelina was all he had, until one day Alexis made fun of him for being twelve years old and still sleeping in bed with his nanny when he had nightmares, and then that ended promptly.

As a result, when he woke up in Patrick's bed for the first time and found himself being full-on koalaed by the man in question, it was moderately alarming. He tensed up even before he was fully awake, his body realizing what was happening before his brain did.

Even once he was awake, he kept his eyes squeezed shut, like maybe if he didn't see it happening, it wasn't actually happening. A very real part of him wanted nothing more than for it to be happening, but some deeper fight or flight response took over and David was already planning an escape route and drafting apologies for letting things get weird, despite the fact that it was Patrick wrapped around him and not the other way around. And aside from the fact that looking at the situation would make it real, David also knew that if he laid eyes on Patrick he would immediately melt and not be able to force himself to leave after all, or at the very least not be able to put up the invisible wall between them, and then he would be supremely fucked. And not in the good way that he was last night, but the worst way, the way that leaves him feeling like a shell of a human. It was a familiar feeling to David, no doubt, but that didn’t mean he was eager to relive it in this moment. 

"It's okay," Patrick whispered, so quietly that at first David thought he imagined it. He hadn't even realized Patrick was awake (which, to be fair, he hadn't opened his damn eyes so how would _he_ know?) "It's okay."

David's shoulders relaxed, just a little. This was Patrick. Patrick was good. Patrick wouldn't hurt him. Patrick would reassure him, but even this early in the relationship, Patrick also knew better than to ask about whatever anxiety this was while David was still in the thick of it. Although, that being said, David was sure Patrick would bring this up at some other date, partly because he would want to understand every bit of David’s dumbass trauma, because it was apparently “good” to “talk about things”, and partly because on the off-chance another one of those jackasses happened to wander into Schitt’s Creek, he wanted to be ready to absolutely chew them out. (If he weren't such a buttoned-up choir boy, Patrick would probably go find all of those people and slug them on David’s behalf like he’s a 1930s gangster, David thinks, which would maybe be kind of hot, but that was besides the point.) Patrick would want so badly to reassure David that he didn't deserve what those people did to him, that he didn't deserve a second of it — and oh god, Patrick's rational, reasonable, _kind_ thinking was already infiltrating David's carefully curated cynical mind, and was David really comfortable with how much he and Patrick were merging together and melding around each other like puzzle pieces or yin and yang or whatever other disgusting, cheesy metaphor the kids were using these days, and was he really comfortable with how much he felt for Patrick, and how fast it was all falling together in a way he had never experienced before?

Before he could spiral too much more, however, Patrick brought him back to Earth, stroking the hair behind his ear. 

"It's okay, David," he said again, and although this one was no louder than the last, just the barest whisper of a sound as Patrick exhaled, it felt like it was reverberating somewhere deep inside David's chest. Almost as if against his own brain's twisted will, his body relaxed: the remaining tenseness left his shoulders, he felt his legs sink into the mattress, he stopped clenching the fists that he hadn't realized he was making. 

He opened an eye and found himself looking at Patrick's stupid, beautiful, gentle face — eyes shut, even puffs of air coming out from between his lips. If Patrick was awake, it was just barely. The thought occurred to David that of course Patrick knew exactly what David needed even when he was mostly asleep, and of course he would do what it took to take care of him. Of course. This was Patrick, _his_ Patrick, the one who made David accidentally think rational, reasonable, _kind_ thoughts about his own damn fucked-up self even when he was spiraling out of control.

Somewhere during this spiral, Patrick had shifted from stroking the hair behind David's ear to absently running his fingers through his locks, and usually around this point David would be pulling away, because he spends a _lot_ of time styling his hair and he can't have it being messed up by a mostly-asleep baseball nerd who snores even though he claims he doesn't, but in this moment he couldn’t find it in him to care. He was David Rose, and his hair was getting messed up, and someone was going to have to _see_ him like this at some point when Patrick inevitably woke up before him to go for a jog or when Ray came back from his business seminar in Elmdale and insisted on giving the both of them a full recap at seven in the morning, but god almighty, he didn't care. 

So he shut his eyes and settled back in, because right now this was good, and it made him feel warm inside, and it made him feel like he wanted to stay here forever in Patrick's arms. He wasn't sure what that feeling was, and he was definitely scared of it, but he was very sure he liked it anyway, so he let it envelop him and filed his concerns away for Future David to deal with.

Right now, he had a Patrick to cuddle.


End file.
